Welcome Home
by TinkerLJ
Summary: Lady Jaye comes face to face with the one thing she has always tried to avoid—her family. Follows the story line of In All the Ways We Are Family and Lady Down.
1. Chapter 1

_It's been a while since I posted. Life crept up and took over. There were other projects to pursue-other things to write. And yet, during that time, the voices of the Joes continued to whisper in my ears. So, I knew I'd eventually get back to it. This will be a shorter piece, only a few chapters. _

_Welcome Home follows the storyline of In All the Ways We Are Family and Lady Down. In it, Lady Jaye comes face to face with the once thing she has always tried to avoid—her family. _

_Thank you for reading. Reviews are always appreciated._

* * *

Lady Jaye stared out the window at the passing countryside. Twisted ropes of ivy hung heavy along the stone walls that lined both sides of the narrow, winding road. Beyond the walls, she caught glimpses of cropped pastures, hills of purpling heather and rows upon rows of rectangular green hedges. Every now and then, the wall would gave way to black iron gates marking the driveways of family properties. The old names—Wimberton, MacDuggal, Fairgate—stirred memories from her childhood.

At one time, all that she saw had been so familiar she barely took notice. _But now?_ She strained to remember—Christmas parties at the Reids, ice skating on Alexander's pond, racing Storm bareback through Finlay's Woods. They were fuzzy at best.

She sighed heavily. That childhood seemed like a lifetime ago and far away, almost as if it belonged to another person. Perhaps it did.

As a child, she had always been full of energy. Her grandmother, God love her, had tried everything to rein in the young Alison, to temper her wild spirit, her impulsiveness. But, despite her threats, her protests and her endless rules, she had never succeeded. Alison remained Alison. Some said she was her grandmother's only failure. Others said she was her greatest success.

Now, she could hardly believe it had been almost five years since her grandmother had died. Alison had left the old mansion right after her grandmother's funeral, leaving everything—including her name—and never looked back. Run, was more like it. Right smack into the Joes. In all honesty, she'd probably still be running if it hadn't been for them. She'd joined the army on a whim and after Basic had jumped from training to training: Airborne, Ranger School and Intelligence. And she'd somehow passed each one—at the top of her class, no less. But still she had been no closer to knowing what she wanted to do with her life. Then the Joes came. An opportune moment, a chance: that's what they offered. And she'd accepted. They took her in, gave her a new name, and made her one of their own.

Known among them as Lady Jaye, she had found peace within herself, with her new identity. She was finally doing something that mattered. And she'd made friends, close friends, some of the best she'd ever had. Then, she met Flint—Dashiell R. Faireborn. He pulled her down from her stormy, reckless clouds and grounded her. Gave her a solid place to rest her feet, a launching point for the future. A dream. But now—she pressed her fingers against the cold window to stop their trembling—now, it was over. All of it. All of them. She shook her head. She was just Alison again, nothing more.

The car crested the hill and then she saw it, rising between the trees: a first glimpse of her own family mansion. The knot in her stomach tightened. She was almost there.

A few minutes later, the car pulled up in front of the house and came to a full stop. The engine fell silent. Her driver stepped out and opened her door. With a small bow he smiled. "Welcome home, Miss Alison." His voice was as dry as the gravel road beneath.

Home. _Her home._ She had to press down the urge to look back toward road they'd just driven.

She'd heard it said that distance makes the heart grow fonder but she'd never been able to believe it. Now, forcing herself to stare at the ivy covered mansion before her, the words seemed even less true. Distance ripped her heart out and cast it on the ground where it was trampled and crushed underfoot. Distance was nothing but a mocker of broken dreams.

No. This was not her home. Not anymore. There was no future for her here. This was just a house full of dead memories. Like it or not, home was back there at the Pit—with them. With him. But, that was no longer an option.

She blinked rapidly, angered once again by the unfairness of it all. But one did not get to choose the family they were born into.

"Thank you, Drake." She controlled her voice carefully.

Stepping out, the road crunched beneath her boots. She vaguely wondered what her grandmother would be thinking of her, right now, if she knew. Then a twinge of guilt passed through her. She hadn't given much thought to her grandmother for some time. Been too busy, she supposed. True, they had butted heads more often than not, but her grandmother had always been good to her. Had raised her. And had, in her own way, loved her. Alison admitted there were many painful memories. But there had been a lot of good ones, too. She'd try to think of only the good ones, for now.

"Ready, Miss?" Drake held two medium-sized suitcases in his hands. It was all she'd managed to take with her, given the time she'd had. She planned to have the rest of her things shipped later.

"Yes Drake," she said. "Thank you." She followed him up the stone steps to the door.

Just as they reached the top step, the heavy front door flew open, followed by an excited squeal. "Miss Alison! I thought you'd never get here."

Alison found herself enveloped in a hug before she even realized what was happening. A smile tugged at her lips as she returned the embrace, warmly. "Maggie. I've missed you."

"We've been waiting for you all morning, child. Come inside. I thought you might want to rest a bit from your traveling. No doubt your tired. I've got a fire already lit in the study and tea awaiting."

_Just like always. _

"Thank you, Maggie." She smiled as she stepped inside the dimly lit entrance. "That sounds lovely."

With Maggie's help, Alison was quickly settled in her favorite chair before a roaring fire. Maggie clucked and fretted the entire time, making sure she was comfortable. Then just before leaving, she placed a hot cup of tea in her hands.

"I'll leave you now so you can rest. But if you need anything, just ring and 'ol Maggie'll come running."

"Thanks, Maggie." She smiled again, leaning her head back against the plush cushions.

Still clucking and muttering to herself, Maggie stepped out, carefully closing the door behind her.

_Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, coming back,_ Alison told herself. _Maybe_.

She stared at the bright flames flickering before her, but despite the truth of Maggie's words, she was restless. The silence around her was so thick and heavy she figured she could have cut it with one of Snake Eyes's Katanas. Beach head could probably have bench-pressed it.

"Too quiet," she muttered, and then started at the sound of her own voice.

At that moment, she would have been willing to put up with anything to fill the awful silence, even Shipwreck telling one of his raunchy jokes, or Leatherneck and Wet-suit arguing in the background.

A log shifted and fell. Sparks raced one another up the chimney. She watched them dully. _Just who am I kidding? _ She missed her old life already. Sighing, she folded her knees up under her. Maybe a nap would help pass the time. She could try, at least. Her eyes closed. Instantly, the explosions started again.


	2. Chapter 2

Alarms sounded. Everyone looked up. The emergency lights were already beginning their slow rotation. Suddenly, the entire base trembled as a missile hit topside. Then more shaking, harder. A second explosion-and this time, it had landed nearer. The Joes inside the Pit stopped whatever they were doing and covered their heads as loosened dust and debris rained down from the ceiling. Lights flickered and dimmed overhead.

"All Joes! To defensive positions. We are under attack." Mainframe's voice crackled over the loudspeaker.

"It's Cobra," Scarlett shouted, jumping to her feet and brushing dust from her BDU's. "Let's go!"

In the Rec Room, where multiple Joes were enjoying a free afternoon, a flurry of action erupted as everyone rushed out into the hallway. More Joes—from the mess, the training rooms and the barracks nearby—joined them. Soon, the main hallways were packed with Joes running, their booted feet stirring up the new dust before it even had time to settle.

"Everyone outside. Hurry!"

Another explosion. The moving stream was forced to pause as Joes staggered, bumping against walls, colliding into other Joes. Some fell. Hands from those still standing reached down. The fallen took hold and then scrambled back to their feet. Then altogether, they continued, not stopping again until everyone had passed out through the main exit.

Outside the Pit, the Joes looked around, taking a quick assessment. Already the base had sustained much damage. Several buildings were on fire. Black smoke billowed from Jets and vehicles that had taken hits. The smoke was so dense in places it dimmed the afternoon sun.

"Duke!" Scarlett shouted. "They are coming at us from all directions."

Sure enough, the Cobra Rattlers responsible the first assault were circling for another run. Farther away, a wide smear of dust blurred the horizon as Cobra land vehicles approached. Another smear was seen to the left—more Cobra. This was a full-on assault. No doubt, there were others coming unseen from other directions. Cobra had planned this one well.

Duke shouted his orders above the noise. "They're trying to box us in. Ace, take a squadron of Skystrikers. Cover Girl, round up the tanks. The rest of you, take defensive positions," he cried. "Yo Joe!"

"Yo Joe!" Joes lifted up the cry as it spread among them.

Joes began to disperse. Some headed for the weapons locker. Some to the vehicles. Others followed Duke and began spreading themselves out along the fence line.

"Duke, the main gates!" Dusty cried.

The Cobra tanks had veered left. A huge plume of dust trailed behind. They were now rumbling forward in a wide arc heading straight toward the main gates.

"I see it, Dusty," Duke shouted back. "Flint take a team and reinforce that entrance until Cover Girl comes with the Wolverines. Scarlett take another and lay a cover so Ace can get our air support up." Duke looked toward the garages. "Come on, Cover Girl," he willed. "We could use those tanks right about now."

"Look alive, Joes!" Scarlett yelled. "Double time." Brandishing her crossbow, she began sprinting, leading her team in a straight line toward the airfield.

The Rattlers had just begun their second run. More explosions shook the ground, flinging dust and rocks into the air. The Joes near the missile targets scrambled for cover. Those further away struggled to keep their feet. Duke stood in their midst, solid and unmoving, like the rock he was.

"Go get 'em, Joes," he roared. "Yo Joe!"

* * *

"Flint," Lady Jaye yelled to be heard above the rapid fire of guns. "They're trying to sneak in through the supply gate!"

"I always said a snake is a sneak spelled backwards," he growled. "Lady Jaye, you and Shipwreck head over there. See what you can do to stall them." He turned around, his gaze pouncing on the first people he saw. "Roadblock, Dusty, back them up."

"You got it, man." Roadblock nodded to Dusty and then, both shouldering their weapons, they hurried after Lady Jaye and Shipwreck.

* * *

"Spread out," Lady Jaye shouted as they approached the entrance. It was worse than she had first thought. They were vastly outnumbered but, with luck, not outmatched. "Stagger yourselves along the perimeter," she said, hoping to inflict the greatest damage.

"Right, Jaye."

"In postion," Dusty shouted.

"Position," Shipwreck echoed.

"Fire! Give 'em all you got."

Joe bullets sliced through the air. Cobra responded with even heavier assault fire.

"Keep firing!" Quickly emptying a clip, Lady Jaye ducked down and reloaded. Then tucking her gun into her waistband, she reached for a javelin. Rising to her feet, she pulled back her arm and threw. The javelin sailed through the air, landing in an area thick with blue. For a moment, the Cobra advance slowed, but by the time the smoke had cleared, a new line of soldiers were already replacing the fallen. Grimly, Lady Jaye retrieved her gun. Taking careful aim, she began picking off her targets one by one.

"Don't stop!" she called. "Make each shot count."

"You heard the lady," Roadblock gave a shout. "Yo Joe! Hit 'em high and hit 'em-" Then his voice was swallowed up by the rapid firing of his machine gun.

* * *

"Ace to ground. I'm up. Stand by for assistance. Skystrikers, attack formation. Go."

"Go get 'em, Ace!" Duke waved from the ground. "Scarlett, take your team to the main gate. Back up Flint."

"On my way, Duke. Let's go Joes," she shouted.

"Yo Joe!" Cries were lifted into the air behind her.

* * *

Cover Girl rolled out of the garage. "Yo Tanks!" she shouted. "Follow me."

"On your six, Cover Girl."

"Yo Joe! Rock and rumble! It's time for some payback."

* * *

Cobra burst through the narrow supply gate. Blue-clad troops filed in and taking position, began firing their weapons in short, rapid bursts.

"Pull back! Take cover!" Shipwreck shouted. "They're in. They're in!"

"Flint!" Lady Jaye crouched low, shouting into the com. Her voice was edged with exhaustion. "We need more help. Now! We're getting overrun here." She ducked as another volley of shots sprayed the ground near her.

"Lady Jaye! Jaye?" Flint cried.

"I'm ok," she grunted. "But I don't know for how long."

"I'm coming. But I'm not sure how many more I can spare—" he began.

"We're coming, too."

Flint turned in surprise as Scarlett, Snake Eyes, Bazooka and Alpine suddenly appeared.

"Ace is up. Duke sent us here to help," Scarlet gave him a smile, fingering her crossbow in a lazy manner.

"Perfect timing, too, it seems," Flint smiled back. "Beachhead, you're in charge, here. We've got them stalled. You and Stalker divide up your teams and start driving them back." He lifted the com to his mouth. "Jaye, hang in there. Help is on the way."

* * *

Lady Jaye ran to fill the new gap that had opened and froze. "Uncail," she gasped. Slowly, she lowered her weapon.

"Neicht." He spoke softly. "I had hoped we would not have the misfortune of repeating this."

"So did I," she said quietly.

"It seems our past will continue to—"

A twig broke and both of them turned toward the sound. A slim black figure stepped out from between the trees. The Baroness. "Destro-" She began and then her eyes darkened as she spotted Lady Jaye. "You? Here?" She growled. "Why am I not surprised."

"Baroness," Destro, began. "This has nothing to do with what you think."

"_This_ has everything to do with it." She turned back to Lady Jaye. "I know all about your little family secret," she hissed. "I learned about it months ago."

Lady Jaye's mouth went dry.

"Baroness, this is hardly the time. I must insist—" Destro warned.

"Time, my dear Destro?" She spoke slowly. "There has been more than enough time." She raised her gun. "It's time to put an end to this—charade."

"Lady Jaye, look out!" Flint yelled. He had just arrived.

The Baroness's red lips curved upward into a deeper, and if possible, even colder smile. "So much the better," she said softly.

Lady Jaye watched in horror as the Baroness turned her weapon on Flint and pulled the trigger. "No!" She cried. Reacting quickly, she raised her own gun and, taking aim, returned fire.

The Baroness fell to the ground.

A deep guttural cry escaped from Destro's throat. He rushed to the Baroness's side. She was clutching her right arm. "I'm all right," she growled as he crouched near her. Her accent was thicker than usual. "It's just a scratch. That beloved little "neicht" of yours managed to nick my arm."

Destro looked at the small spread of red, the Baroness's pale face and then he turned, locking eyes with Lady Jaye. Deep embers seemed to catch flame. "You—" his voice thundered.

Lady Jaye's hands were shaking. "I'm sorry," she stammered, lowering her gun. "She-"

"Lady Jaye." Flint touched her arm lightly.

Lady Jaye jumped and turned toward him. Suddenly, her eyes went wide. "Flint! You're hurt." She quickly tore the sleeve from her shirt. Then reaching up, she began dabbing at his bloodied cheek.

"I'm fine, Jaye. Stop," He grabbed her wrist to still it. "They're the ones we need to be worrying about."

Lady Jaye turned to look in the direction he was pointing. The Baroness had now risen to her feet and was leaning against Destro, more heavily than was necessary. He had an arm wrapped around her waist.

Lady Jaye stared at Destro, at the cold fury filling his eyes, and swallowed.

"If you wish to remain unscathed, I suggest you leave, now," he said, his voice threatening. "Whatever familial connection we may have once shared is past."

The Baroness smiled at Lady Jaye. A thin, pleased smile. "Destro," she purred soothingly, stroking his arm. "It's for the best, I'm sure. Cobras do not associate with Joes."

Lady Jaye stared at her with growing suspicion. She knew the Baroness had never liked her-and in all honesty that feeling had been mutual. But to go this far? To attack her personally? Looking now at the Baroness's smug smile she had a sinking sense that it was plausible. More than plausible. Anger boiled up in her. She began to protest. "But—"

"I think we'd better do as he says." Flint took hold of her arm and began pulling her away. Lady Jaye stumbled along with him but her eyes remained locked with Destro's-until, at last, the trees between them severed their connection. Then, as if a spell had been broken, she began trembling all over.

"Hey, easy...It's all right," Flint pulled her in his arms.

"Flint, I—" She buried her head into his chest as a tears began sliding down her cheeks.

He held her, stroking her hair gently. "Shhh. It's going to be ok."

Scarlett ran up. Her eyes fell upon Lady Jaye and lingered. "Flint—I saw what happened. Is she ok?"

"Yeah, she's just-"

Lady Jaye pushed away from Flint. "I'm just fine, Scarlett." She began wiping her eyes furiously.

Scarlett's gaze narrowed as she gave her a slow nod. "Then finish pulling yourself together, girl. Cobra's still throwing everything they've got at us. We need you both."

"You've got us." Lady Jaye quickly selected a javelin. The hands that held it were steady. "I'm ready."

Sliding the shotgun off his shoulder, Flint stepped up beside her. "So am I. Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

_In my imaginings of Lady Jaye and Destro, I see them sharing not only a familial connection but a Scottish one as well. So, following that line of thinking, I believe they would both speak Gaelic. I don't speak Gaelic personally, though I wish I could. It's a beautiful language. The following are translations I found online and used in this chapter. I hope they are correct._

_ uncail-uncle_

_neacht-niece_

_slan agat-goodbye (when staying)_

_A note to my readers: I write these stories with the goal of improving my writing. I write, too, because I enjoy it. __And with each story, I hope that you-the reader-may also find some small enjoyment in the reading of it._

_So, as always, thank you for reading and reviewing and following along._

* * *

Smoke drifted in a slow, lazy haze, carrying with it the mingled smells of charred wood, hot metal and the harsh sweetness of burnt chemicals. Though the main fires around the base had been put out by teams of Joes with hoses and extinguishers long ago, glowing embers remained here and there, and in some places small fires still burned.

Cobra had planned their attack well. They had initiated with the air attack, striking with uncharacteristic precision. Land vehicles followed, bringing ground support. Then came the soldiers. Rows upon rows of soldiers. None of the Joes remembered _ever_ facing so many blue uniforms. They retaliated with every ounce of strength and skill they had. Ace led a squadron of Skystrikers. They knocked Rattlers out of the sky like they were in a shooting gallery. Cover Girl led the tanks and heavy-armored vehicles. On foot, everyone else battled with grit and raw determination.

And it nearly wasn't enough.

For one brief moment, the entire future of the Joes stood balanced on the edge of a knife. But Duke, never one to give up, gathered the Joes and led what might have been their final charge. They marched forward, the best of the best, and Bazooka emerged as the unlikely hero.

To be fair, it had been an accident. Bazooka had been aiming for a Rattler. He hadn't even seen the Commander, gliding along at a safe distance, premature in his celebration. But Bazooka tripped. The nose of his rocket launcher tipped upward and released its charge. The missile skyrocketed into the air and then came back down at a steep arc. It hit the wing of Commander's hang glider. He plunged out of control, screeching and yelling as the Joes looked on. Then, at the last minute, Zartan caught the Commander in his Thunder Machine. Zartan immediately turned the Machine around. As they roared away, the Commander screeched again the words all the Joes knew well: "Retreat! Retreat!" The rest of Cobra turned and followed him, their tails tucked tightly between their legs. Amazed by the turn of events, the Joes shouted. "Yo Joe!" They lifted Bazooka onto their shoulders. They had won.

Then, the real work began.

Under the hum of generators, Doc and Lifeline set up triage tents for the injured. Fire crews formed and dispersed to battle the flames. Rescue crews spread out, searching for the missing. Duke refused to let anyone rest until each and every missing Joe had been accounted for. No one would be left behind on his watch, no one forgotten-even if it took all night.

* * *

Raising her arms over her head, Lady Jaye moved slowly though a series of painful stretches. It was dark. The evening shadows had long been swallowed by night and except for the few lights run by generators, all was black. Here and there she glimpsed dark figures, slow-moving with their heads bent in weariness. They were unrecognizable. The shadows could have belonged to anyone. Most of them were heading in the same direction, toward the runway. Sleep tents had been set up in rows there, temporary housing for those uninjured. She could see a few more faint points of light marking the way in the distance.

Lady Jaye pressed her fingers into her temples and began rubbing circles. She was so tired. Her back and arms ached. Her body screamed for rest. She had been among the rescue crews digging through rubble searching for and pulling out those injured. And they had just finished. The last Joe on Duke's list of missing was being carried off to the medical tents at that moment. He was a green shirt. Just some young, fresh-faced kid with the dream of becoming a hero. _Just like them all_, she sighed. Lady Jaye hadn't recognized his face, probably had never even met him. But he mattered. He mattered to Duke. He mattered to them all.

She hoped he would make it.

"Hey, Jaye. What are you still doing up?" Scarlett's shape emerged from the darkness. "I thought you rescue crews had hit the sack a while ago."

"Oh. Hi, Scarlett." Lady Jaye stared at her friend in amusement. Scarlett was covered head to toe in black soot, blacker than the black around them. Even her bright red hair had taken on a gray dullness. "Fires all out?" she asked innocently.

"Yeah. Finally." Scarlett rolled her shoulders. "Boy, am I beat. What I wouldn't give for a soak in a hot tub right about now," she groaned.

"I know what you mean," Lady Jaye sighed. "No such luck, though. At least not until the safety crews complete their inspections.

"I know." Scarlett frowned. Then she made a bad imitation of Duke. _No one is to return to the barracks until the safety inspectors give the all clear. And I mean No One._ "I had been thinking about sneaking in," she confessed, her lips curving. "But he was looking right at me when he said it."

Jaye gave her a smile. "Hey, it shouldn't take them that long. Besides, being the nice roomy I am, when we do finally get permission, I'll let you shower first. I hate to say it friend, but you need it."

"Gee thanks. By the way, you aren't so sweet, yourself, you know."

Lady Jaye laughed. "You heading for the tents?"

"Uh-huh. At least I can get some sleep. You?"

Lady Jaye wanted to, but she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. Instead, she shook her head. "In a few. Still too wired to sleep."

Scarlett nodded in sympathy.

"I'll probably just wander around a bit," Lady Jaye added.

"Ok. But don't be too long." Scarlett squeezed her arm.

"Don't worry. I won't."

"Oh, I almost forget. One of the guys found this." Scarlett dug her fingers into her pocket and pulled out two pieces of paper that had been torn in half. "Is it yours? Or maybe Flint's? It was left in the clearing."

Lady Jaye stared at the pieces as if they were poisoned. Even in the dark, she knew what they were: remnants of the photo she had given to Destro."Uh, they're mine. Thanks," she said, taking them. A heaviness settled on her, like an ending. Gripping the halves tightly, she clutched them to her breast. "Would you excuse me, Red. I—I need—" She floundered for words.

Scarlett looked at her sharply. "Lady Jaye? Are you all right?"

"I—I'm fine. I just need to go for that walk," she said.

"Jaye? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'll catch you later. Ok?"

"Ok," she said. But her voice sounded unconvinced. "Do you promise?"

"I promise." Lady Jaye turned and walked away. The pieces of the photo burned in her hands.

* * *

Alison opened her eyes and sighed. She'd only managed a half-doze.

_It is so quiet in the old mansion. __Too quiet. Too much room for memories, _she thought.

The cup of tea Maggie had given her was still in her hands. Lifting it to her lips, she took a sip and then grimaced. _Ugh, lukewarm._ She returned it to its tray. She thought about ringing Maggie, to ask her to bring a fresh pot, but then changed her mind. She didn't really feel like tea, and even less like Maggie's company. Instead, she began studying the four walls of the room.

Everything was just as she remembered: the same teak bookcases filled with old friends, the same paintings of smiling ancestors she had never met hung along the walls. Of all the rooms in the mansion, this had been her childhood favorite. Alison had spent hours here, staring up at the old paintings, wondering about the stories hid behind the smiles or flipping through pages as she lost herself in the worlds of her book friends. It was where she dreamed about "family," wondering what it would be like to be a part of one. Her grandmother, in a rare moment of closeness, had once shared that it had been her mother's favorite room, too. Maybe that was why Alison liked it so much-because she felt her mother there, felt close to her, despite the few memories she held.

Slipping her hand into her breast pocket, Alison pulled out the photo pieces Scarlett had given her and smoothed them in her hand. Slowly she ran a finger over her crumpled image. _Family. _She wondered if she had meant anything to him. Anything at all.

_"Uncail."_

_"Neacht."_

The first time they had met, being more than members of Cobra and Gi Joe, Alison had been a prisoner and Destro had visited her cell. She remembered how he had hesitated before sliding his hand into a pocket. She remembered the photograph he pulled out, her Christmas photo, but it had been cut in half. She asked him why and he had responded with genuine surprise. _"What? You can't possibly believe I would want to be carrying his photograph around." _

No. He wouldn't carry a photo of Flint, of that she was certain. She almost smiled, even now. His response was so _Destro. _

Then he had surprised her, handing her a second photo she had not realized he was still holding. _"You?" _She had asked, sliding a finger over the face of an unknown young man with arms around her own mother and father.

_"Yes. I wanted you to know I wasn't always who you see before you today," _he had said.

She felt something shift between them at that moment. Fragile, but a beginning. Hope sprung to life in her, and just as fragile, her hope for a "family." But when she had offered him a chance to start again, to leave Cobra and come with her, he had declined. Hurt and full of anger and disappointment, she had shouted. _"So, that's it? __We're at an impasse? You just go your way and I go mine?" _

But when he spoke again his voice was so soft, so sad, that she felt the sadness seep into her own heart. _"We are sworn enemies. It is how it must be." _He had said almost the same, again, on the battlefield. Only that time it wasn't sadness that filled his voice, it was anger. Because of _her._ Because of what _she_ had done to the Baroness. Because they were on opposite sides.

Alison sighed heavily. She ran her finger over her image once more and then crumpled it in her fist. The last of her family: gone. And with it, her hope.

_"Slan agat. Uncail," _she whispered. She would not call him by that name again.

Destro was gone. The Joes were gone. And she was now alone. It was as it must be, no matter what Flint said.

_Flint. _

A deep sigh rose up in her. She missed him most of all.

* * *

"Jaye, no one blames you for what happened. Any one of us would have done the same in your situation."

Lady Jaye touched Flint's bandaged cheek lightly and smiled. "No they wouldn't, and you know it, Flint. Besides, it's not the same. None of _them_ are related to the enemy."

"Jaye, haven't we been over this before?" he asked wearily.

"Yes. But now I've seen why it could never work."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean by that? Why wouldn't it?"

"Why!" her voice rose, despite her efforts to control it. "How can you even ask that?" Her eyes stung. "I couldn't do it. I failed to do my job and in doing so, put my teammates at risk. Put you at risk. You could have died out there because of me."

"But I didn't—"

"Flint, you and I both know I should have been thrown into the brig—as—as a traitor." She brushed a hand across her eyes. "No. I'm no Joe anymore. I've already proven that."

"Jaye-" he began. Then seeing her face, he stopped. He knew her too well. "So, what are you going to do, now?" he asked.

"Only what I have to do, Flint." Pressing her lips together, she looked away. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

He stared at her, and his face darkened. "You're planning to leave us, aren't you?" he accused.

She glanced toward him and then wrapped her arms around herself tightly. "How can I stay, Flint?" Her voice wavered. "How can I honestly call myself a Joe and then not be willing to pull the trigger on one of our enemies? A known Cobra leader, no less. Tell me that!"

"You fired on the Baroness."

"But not on Destro. And you know why." She glared at him suddenly, as if challenging him to deny it.

He stared back. Angry. Then, suddenly his shoulders sagged. "Jaye no one wants you to leave," he said quietly. "Especially, me. You don't have to do this. Please don't go."

The pain in her heart cut sideways. "I'm sorry, Flint." She hardened her voice. "But, I'm afraid I don't have a choice."

Flint spoke so softly she almost missed it. "There is always a choice," he said. Gently, he took her hands in his and began rubbing slow circles on the backs of them. She could feel the trembling in his fingers. "Where will you go?" he whispered.

"Home."

"Your grandmother's?" He looked up at her in surprise.

She nodded.

His eyes softened. "Stay in touch?"

She gave him a sad smile. "I'd like that."

"I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too."

They stared at one another in silence, their eyes speaking the words their mouths could not say. Then, Lady Jaye slowly extracted her hands from his.

"It's for the best," she whispered, forcing another smile. "Really." But even as she said it, she had a hard time believing it.


	4. Chapter 4

_Once again, thank you everyone for reading and reviewing. This story has taken on a life of its own, twisting and turning in ways I had not originally seen. I am constantly amazed by how many layers there are to the character, Lady Jaye. But, we are nearly there. A final chapter after this one and it will be all wrapped up. I hope you are enjoying reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. Thanks for following along. _

* * *

Alison awoke to bright sunlight streaming in through her window.

"What time is it?" she muttered groggily, cracking open an eye. She squinted at the clock on her bedside table and then groaned. "9:00." When was the last time she had slept in until 9:00? Probably years. "You're growing soft Allie," she berated herself. "What would Beach Head say if he could see you right now?" She pushed back the heavy covers and sat up. "What would they all say?" She decided not to answer. Instead, she slid her feet into her slippers and rose from the bed. Then, stepping carefully around the piles of old letters and photos she had left scattered on the floor, she made her way toward the bathroom.

Alison was quickly finding that being the "Lady" of the manor was very different from just being the "Granddaughter". No one complained if she slept in or decided to stay up all night. No one fussed if she failed to finish a meal. No one demanded punctuality or formality or insufferable quiet. And no one—_no one—_made rules about where she could or could not go in the mansion. She found all those decisions to be hers and hers alone. So room by room, floor by floor, Alison began exploring the mansion—something she was never allowed to do under her grandmother's watchful eye.

It was during her exploration the day before that she discovered a wing on the third floor that had previously been unknown to her—and a room that must have belonged to her mother. There, Alison discovered a personal treasure trove—a desk filled with the graceful script of her mother, old letters from her father tied up in faded ribbons still smelling of rose petals, stacks of crumbling journals and photos.

Alison sifted through her mother's things like she had found an oasis for the soul. And in some ways she had. Through them, she was discovering not only who her mother had been, but also who she—Alison—was. Alison learned that her parents had been deeply in love. She learned that they had kept their long courtship a secret, so that not even her grandmother had known until it was too late. From the letters themselves, Alison gleaned that her father was a poet, that he had a natural gifting in languages, liked to travel, and that his favorite food was Haggis. She learned that her mother liked to sing, take photos and ride horses. But most surprisingly, her mother had delighted in climbing trees. Alison laughed at that one. Those genes had apparently skipped over her, since she had a mortal fear of heights.

Then, as night fell, Alison had carried all her mother's things back to her own room. She could hardly bear to be parted from them, now that they had been found. There, she continued long into the night, poring over the photos scattered loosely among the letters.

Her mother had been quite good, she realized, with many of the photos capturing not just an image but the moment. Alison found it easy to imagine she was there with them. And when she closed her eyes, she could hear the faint laughter captured in the images.

There were photos of her mother (taken by her father, no doubt), and many, many photos of her father. But only a few photos had the two of them together. In some of the photos of her father, there appeared another young man. He was slightly older and slightly taller than her father, but he had the same square chiseled chin, high brow and bright eyes. It was a face she knew, a face she had seen in photo once before—her uncle, Destro. But, the carefree smile on his face she had never seen.

Spreading them on the floor, she looked at each one, taking her time. All three—her father, mother and her uncle—seemed so happy. Alison wondered what had happened to drive them apart. A falling out, no doubt. But over what, she had no answer, and the photos had offered no clues.

Alison was soon showered and dressed. Then, hungry at last, she headed to the dining room for a late breakfast.

* * *

A knock and the door to the study opened. Maggie entered, dropping a small curtsy. "Miss Alison?"

Alison looked up from the book she was reading—a favorite. It was one her father had read to her many times as a small child about five faeries and a lost princess.

"Yes, Maggie. What is it?"

"You have visitors."

"Visitors?" Alison pursed her lips. She wondered _who_ would be visiting _her._ _Maybe some old family acquaintance of her grandmother, or perhaps some childhood companion? _ Neither seemed likely since she had told no one of her return. She hesitated before asking. "Who are they, Maggie?"

"They say they're friends of yours." Maggie wrinkled her nose as if she were having a hard time believing it. "Strange names they gave, though. "Hawk, Scarlett and…Rock." She scrunched up her face. "No that wasn't quite it. It was…it was…" She kneaded her forehead.

"Flint?" Alison suggested blandly.

"Flint. Oh, yes. That was it." Maggie brightened at once. "I knew it had something to do with rocks. So, I take it you do know them, Miss Allison?"

"Yes, Maggie. You could say that." She frowned slightly.

"Would you like me to show them in here, then? I left them waiting in the entrance hall."

"No." Alison chewed her lip. _What were they doing here? Why now? And why those three?_ "Take them to the parlor," she said finally. She glanced down at her skirt, rumpled from sitting so long, and frowned. "I'll join them there shortly. I'd like to freshen up a bit."

"Of course, Miss Allison."

Alison hadn't noticed Maggie watching her, nor her eyes growing brighter by the second. Her own mind was far too preoccupied. "Oh, and have the kitchen provide tea and a light snack for our guests, please." She added as an afterthought.

"As you wish." Maggie's grin widened.

Alison turned back toward Maggie who was, by now, grinning like a cat. She _knew_ that smile. "They're _just_ friends, Maggie. No more." She rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. "Honestly."

"Whatever you say, child. But I suggest you hurry. You don't want to keep your _friends_ waiting." She turned and headed toward the door, chuckling to herself. "And choose something that'll set off that bright color in your cheeks."

Alison began muttering threats under her breath. But the minute Maggie was out of sight, she uncurled her legs and jumped to her feet.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Alison stood outside the door to the parlor. Her heart was galloping in her chest, the palms of her hands damp with sweat. Nervously, she wiped them on her sides, smoothing down her skirt at the same time. _It's not too late. _She thought wryly._ I could still send them all away without seeing them._ But she knew she wouldn't. She owed Hawk that much, at least. Scarlett, she still considered her best friend. And Flint…well, Flint was Flint. Besides, another part of her was curious to know why they were here.

She glanced down, taking in her appearance one last time. She was wearing a simple blouse of eggshell white and a deep burgundy skirt that fell just below her knees. She had chosen this outfit because it was simple, flattering, and because it was nothing like what she wore as a Joe.

With a deep breath, she turned the knob to the door and pushed it open.

Inside, Scarlett, General Hawk and Flint stood with their backs to her. Allison could see their hands stretched out toward a fire Maggie must have started in the grate. She would have to remind herself to thank Maggie later. Not having been used in a long time, the room was damp and chilly and smelled musty. _Old, just like everything else into mansion._ Clearing her throat, she announced her presence and then stepped into the room.

"Lady Jaye!" Scarlett squealed as she hurried over and gave her a hug. "Oh, how I've missed you." Then she pulled back, holding Alison at arms length as she eyed her up and down. "You look good. Really good. How have you been?"

"As well as can be expected." Alison smiled. She was painfully aware of Flint's eyes on her. On the fact that he hadn't yet moved—or spoken. "Thanks for asking."

"When we drove up and caught sight of your mansion, I doubted we had come the right place. I mean, I knew you come from an old family, but this?" She swept her arms around, indicating the room. "It's…amazing…beautiful…"

"Thank you," Alison said.

"And that woman who met us at the door—She's your servant?"

"One of them."

Scarlett stared at her in amazement. "Really? You have more?"

"Look-," Alison cut her off. She eyed each of them suspiciously. "I know you're not all here on a social call. Would one of you please tell my why you _are_ here?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "And if it's about—"

"We're here, Lady Jaye—" Hawk interrupted, "—To ask you to come back."

Alison narrowed her eyes. "But—You know I'm not Lady Jaye, anymore." She said. "I'm just Alison."

"Everyone is well aware of your personal history—Lady Jaye." Hawk repeated her name again. "And your—shall we say—unique familial connections."

She frowned. "Then, everyone knows?" She suddenly felt sick. "About me and—"

"Everyone who needs to know," Hawk cut in, gently. "Duke, Beach Head, Snake Eyes—just the team leaders."

_Just the team leaders._ She winced inwardly. _Still, too many. _

"And none of them give a serpent's tail about who you are related to," Scarlett added in earnest. "We only care about you."

Lady Jaye shook her head. Her gaze fell on Flint and lingered. He still hadn't spoken or moved.

"That may be as you say," she said quietly, "But—"

Hawk continued, "Lady Jaye, I was a fool to let you go in the first place. The truth is, the team needs you back. We need you back. You're the best Intelligence Officer we've ever had." His voice lowered, "And if you are still the Lady Jaye I think you are, you will come back."

She chewed her lip while her thoughts raced ahead. _ Was she Lady Jaye or was she Alison? Or was she someone else, entirely? Just who was she? And more importantly, who did she want to be?_

Her eyes narrowed skeptically as she faced the General. "Do you you really think that highly of me, sir?"

Hawk smiled, "I do."

"We _do_ need you," Scarlett insisted. "You and I both know your uncle will stop at nothing to help Cobra rule the world. He has no conscience."

Lady Jaye turned, her eyes flashing dangerously. "No," she said firmly, lifting her chin just a bit higher. "That's not entirely true. He _does_ have a conscience," she said slowly. "He just chooses to ignore it."

"We're not asking you to betray your—family. What we're asking is for you to help us stop him. Stop them." Hawk pinned her with his stare.

"But I'm a liability," she paused, doing her best not to squirm. "What if—What if the situation repeats itself? No," she shook her head. "No. It's too dangerous. You can't possibly want me back."

"But, we do," Scarlett insisted.

"Jaye, please come back," Flint spoke for the first time. "We want you to. All of us. We need you. You're an important part of the team."

She glanced at him and then frowned. _Was that all she had meant to him? _ _Just an important part of the team? _She felt her anger rising. "What if I don't want to come back?" she said stubbornly. "What if I like my life, like who I am, now?"

"Jaye—Allie," Flint scratched his forehead in the place where his beret rubbed at his skin. He continued, choosing his words carefully. "I hope I'm still right in saying I know you better than anyone. I know that coming back won't be easy for you. But, in all truthfulness, it never was easy. We're not asking you to betray your conscience or give up your sense of loyalty. We're not asking you to give up Alison. You're Alison, yes, but you're also Lady Jaye. You're both, don't you see? It's what makes you uniquely you. All we're asking is that you follow your heart—and if you look deep enough, I think your heart will tell you that it belongs with us. And-" He glanced at Hawk and his jaw set resolutely."—With me." He fixed his eyes unwaveringly on Alison.

Scarlett gasped.

Alison's eyes widened. Her heart gave a little jump into her throat.

"So, will you do it? Will you consider coming back to us?" Flint asked softly. "To me?"

She looked at him and then looked away. Unfolding her arms, she wiped away a tear. It was true what Flint had said, she did miss her old life with the Joes. She missed the part of her that was Lady Jaye. At no other time in her life had she been happier than when she was with the Joes. But now she had rediscovered a part of herself she had not known. She had found peace being Alison. _So, which one did she want to be? Or was it possible to be both as Flint had suggested—to be Lady Jaye and Alison at the same time? Was it worth taking a risk to be whole? Maybe she didn't have to choose, after all._

"Yes," she whispered at last, finally meeting his eyes. "Yes, I'll come back."

Flint gave her a relieved grin.

Alison smiled back and continued. "I'll help fight Cobra, again. At least—I'll do what I can."

"That's no more than we could ask of you." Hawk nodded approvingly.

Laughing, Scarlett rushed forward, wrapping her in a bear hug. "Good. You have no idea how much Cover Girl and I have missed you."

"I think I'm getting the idea," she gasped. With effort, she pulled herself from Scarlett's hug. Then she turned back to Hawk, her face sobering, once more. "But—" She stated firmly. "I will not pull the trigger on him."

"Don't worry. No one is going to ask you to do that."

"Just so we have a clear understanding," she said.

"Very clear, _Miss Alison_." And then he smiled.

Alison-Lady Jaye smiled back.


	5. Chapter 5

_Here it is, the last chapter. But, because this is a Lady Jaye and Flint story and because I like happy endings, I promise to leave you with them together. Enjoy!_

_Again, thank you for reading and reviewing and following along. Thank You! Thank You!_

_Flint quotes from Anne Bronte's poem, Power of Love._

* * *

Lady Jaye paused before entering the mess and smoothed down the front of her fatigues nervously. It was strange being back in her BDU's. She hated admitting to herself that she missed the soft silks she had been wearing, the gentle sway of her skirts around her knees, but she did.

"Jaye? Allie? What's wrong?" Flint touched her arm in concern.

"Nothing." She looked up at him and smiled. "And Lady Jaye's fine, here."

"All right," he smiled back. "Ready?" At her nod, he pushed the door and held it open for her. She took a quick, deep breath, and then entered. At once, the Joes inside erupted into cheers—clapping and shouting and pounding their fists on the tables.

"Lady Jaye, we thought you were never coming back!"

"Where've you been, girl?"

"This old sailor's missed you."

The Joes gathered around and she found herself literally lifted off her feet and passed around among them-Roadblock, Gung ho, Shipwreck, and Ripcord. She was hugged and squeezed and swung around until she was breathless and giddy. She could hardly believe it had only been a few weeks. It felt like forever.

Then someone gave a shout. "Cake! Cake!" And she was placed back on her feet.

She looked. There, across the room, a large white sheet cake had been laid out. "Welcome Back" had been scrawled across it in army green icing. Flower petals had been sprinkled liberally on the surface of the table. On the wall above it, a banner had been hung. Someone had made it out of an old bed sheet and what Lady Jaye could only assume was leftover camouflage paint. "Welcome home, Lady Jaye", it read.

A hard lump formed in her throat and she turned toward Flint in bewilderment. "I never expected-Why'd they do that?" she choked, indicating the banner and the cake and the flower petals. "Why'd they go to so much trouble? I'm the one who left. It was my choice."

Flint glanced at the sign and then at the cake. He turned to her with his crooked smile. "Because you're a part of this family, Lady Jaye. Always."

Her mouth fell open and she stared at him in amazement.

Then someone handed her a piece of cake and she mumbled a "thank-you." More shouts of "cake, cake," began circling the room. The crowd dispersed as the Joes hurried to grab their own pieces before making their way back to the tables to eat.

Finally, Lady Jaye and Flint were left alone.

Smiling, Flint took the cake from her hands and set it aside. "My turn," he chuckled, gathering her up in his arms. A wave of dizziness passed over her as she felt the warmth of his breath tickling her ear. Then she heard him whisper, huskily. "Welcome home, Lady Jaye."

Her heart began beating rapidly. It was the voice that haunted her nights, the voice she knew better than her own. Joy flooded through her. She felt like she was flying.

_Joes. Family. Flint. _She was home again.

At last, almost reluctant, Flint set her back down and the spinning world stopped. She kept her arms wrapped loosely around his neck as she gazed up into his dark eyes, reading the secrets he had hidden there. What she saw made her smile. "Thank you for coming for me," she said softly. "And for reminding me who I am."

"Always. My Alison—and my Lady Jaye." Then he paused. A grin spread across his face. "_That I could not but remember how her hopes were fixed on me,_" he said softly, tracing her jaw with his finger. Then another verse—more words of Anne Bronte—rose deep from his heart. "_Love, indeed thy strength is mighty."_

Her heart fluttered into her throat. Then, her own smile widening, she rose up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his-softly, tenderly. Catcalls erupted all around them but, for once, neither of them cared. Flint just growled deeply and pulled her tighter against him, so close she could feel the racing of his heart-matching her own-beat for beat.

"I will always come for you," he whispered. "Always." Then he kissed her back, passionately, hungrily.

And for the moment, it was just them.


End file.
